Crips and Bloods: Made in America

Ever since the street-gang drama "Colors" came out in 1988, films about the Crips and the Bloods have focused on the futility and tragedy of the here and now. We take it for granted that the gangs of L.A. will never die, just multiply. How much does the past even matter?

"Crips and Bloods: Made in America" director Stacy Peralta doesn't have the answers to the gang problem in Los Angeles any more than the politicians and scholars and reformed gangbangers do who have been working on that task for the past several decades. But he still has something important to offer, showing point by point how one of the most desirable places to live turned into a war zone with 15,000 casualties.

It's a biased film that fans of Peralta's excellent "Dogtown and Z-Boys" may consider a step back for the director. And yet it offers necessary historical context, which is nearly always missing in the entertainment industry's portrayal of these two street gangs. "Crips and Bloods" deals almost entirely in known facts, but it's still a revelatory film.

Lin-Manuel Miranda and Ben Platt's Release New Song for 'March for Our Lives'Wibbitz

Anna Faris, Eugenio Derbez star in 'Overboard'Fox5DC

Even if you've spent your life in a gated community, chances are you know a little bit about the Crips and the Bloods. Popular movies including "Colors" and John Singleton's "Boyz N the Hood" show the nuances of life in South Central Los Angeles. Rappers from Eazy-E to the Game have told their stories of L.A. gang life to mainstream audiences for decades.

Peralta begins "Crips and Bloods" by telling us a few things we didn't know. Most of the first third focuses on the formation of street gangs in the 1950s and '60s. There's much about the racist real estate practices that led to geographic segregation, and the dubious actions by police who tried to keep blacks in their place. One surviving member of the first gang in the area talks about getting turned away from his local Boy Scout troop because of his skin color. He joined a different kind of "club," which developed into the Crips and the Bloods.

Filming with quick edits, lots of up-tempo music and frequent leaps back and forth in time, Peralta still squeezes in a few personal stories. In one of the more powerful moments, the camera lingers on an older former gang member who peers around nervously as police sirens pass and a helicopter circles overhead. He doesn't say a word, but his look - guarded and weary and defeated - says everything.

"Crips and Bloods" is successful as a history lesson, but the documentary (produced by former Golden State Warrior Baron Davis) falters whenever the focus shifts to the present. There are surprisingly few active gang members in the movie, and their repetitive, simplistic statements are the weakest part of the film. Peralta also has a hard time keeping his own feelings out of the movie, oversimplifying problems that have no easy answers.

Thankfully, there's always a fascinating moment around the corner, even when the movie starts to drag. One of the interviewees, a man named Kumasi who joined his first "club" more than 50 years ago, describes his younger self as a walking time bomb. "That's my diet," he says, still unable to mask the anger in his voice. "A spoon full of hatred."

Decades later, it's sad how nothing has changed, and how little hope there is for the future.